


Hey hey Mr.Boatman

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mogens needs this okay, Short, Smooching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: Mogens is trying to get into the holiday spirit. And when he learns of this 'mistletoe' business, he's hooked. And so is a little traveler.
Relationships: Mogens/insert
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	Hey hey Mr.Boatman

**Author's Note:**

> This was made for a buddy of mine, @cookienerdzzz on tumblr. We both just really fucking love Mogens. And even though its short, it feels good to give the boatman some love. Merry (early) Christmas, cookie!

Smeerenburg. A small, desolate place, surrounded by feuds, gray, and inhospitable temperatures. Least, it's how it used to be. Now, the island was practically holiday incarnate. Lights, neighbors cheering and celebrating with one another, and somehow, it was just a little warmer than it had been previously. It made the place quite the tourist destination, bringing many people to the once lonely island. And she was no exception. Stepping off the ferry (which were newly implemented, as apparently the island had only ONE boat previously), she was immediately met with a wave of sensations. The air was chilly, the sun was setting, Christmas lights and lamp posts shone brighter than the stars themselves. She adjusted her hat, and let her hair down, appreciating the added layer of warmth.

"This place is definitely NOT the same as how I remember it…"

From her shirt, she pulled out her picture of Smeerenburg from a few years ago. Her family used to live here before they all moved. Probably because an Ellingboe threw a harpoon right at her dad. Didn't kill him, thankfully, but his foot was never the same. She was quite scared of this place upon recollection, but upon hearing that it was such a holiday destination, she knew she had to see it for herself. Tucking the picture away, she took a minute to contemplate just what she should do. That was when fate chose for her.

"HOT CHOCOLATE!!!"

Should she have yelled it? Probably not. But everyone was so merry and full of cheer, they just fed off her excitement. She dashed forward (so excited she dashed through the snow, rather than use the stone path), and took her seat in front of a green little shack. Despite how small it was, the list was MASSIVE. There was a man running the little shop, thin as a twig, with a top hat, and had a little black haired boy behind the counter with him. The boy tugged on his arm, and pointed at her.

"Papa! There's someone at the window, papa!"

"Hmm?"

He turned to look, and tipped his hat to her, smiling.

"Ah, evenin' miss. Sorry, just taking stock. What can I get ya?"

"Oh I haven't made up my mind yet. I didn't know there were so many different types of hot cocoa!"

The old man shrugged, leaning on the counter. He would've been less patient, had this exchange gone on a year ago.

"Well, I'm rather fond of the hot buttered rum. Tasty, little boozy."

The little boy, only his hands being able to be seen on the counter, lightly waved his hands.

"Oh oh oh! I like the peanut butter hot chocolate! Papa melts chocolate peanut butter candy in milk! It's the bestest!"

The old man chuckled, patting his little head. Sweet kid. She hummed lightly, before she nodded.

"Actually, could I just get the classic? Plenty of whipped cream?"

"Sure. Ya want chocolate shavings to go with?"

"ALWAYS."

"Coming up. Any cookies to go with? All of 'em good. Wife made 'em."

She tapped her fingers on the counter. Chocolate chip, goat butter gingerbread, snickerdoodle, peanut butter, honey vanilla sandwiches, molasses, and many more. How to pick? Clearly she had to make a choice, like a grown adult. She pulled out her coin purse, and stacked her coins neatly, shoving the pile on the counter.

"One of every cookie please."

Holy SHIT she was a responsible adult. The little boy looked at his papa, who shrugged.

"Get the change boy. Customer wants what they want."

The boy floundered his hands on the counter, struggling to reach the coins. She shoved them closer, finally letting him reach.

"Thank you, lady!"

"Anytime."

She had to admit, the service was wonderful, and the boy behind the counter was absolutely adorable. She took a minute to look around the place as her hot chocolate was brewing. Little kids ran around, laughing and yelling, adults were practically arm and arm with one another, snow men abound, and to her surprise, reindeer walked around freely. The man carefully pushed her hot chocolate towards her. It was on a little plate, red and white, perfect to suit the little candy cane on the plate. She thanked him, and took a sip, not caring that the whipped cream smothered over her nose. The result of said drink? Immediate happiness. It filled her insides with such a sense of bliss, she practically melted in her seat. She could take her coat and hat off, and STILL be warm. It was, without a doubt, the best hot chocolate she'd ever had. And as a giant plate of cookies slid over to her, she knew it'd only get better.

"Woah. Long time on that ferry, I take it?"

She looked at the direction of the voice. A man stood there, a rather cheesy smirk on his face. Big coat, concealing plenty layers of definitely worn, yet thick clothes. It was messy attire, but he didn't come off as sleazy. More like, relaxed. It suited his smile at least.

"Hope I'm not bothering ya, just couldn't help but notice that appetite of yours, cookie."

"Oh, no trouble at all really."

She was warned about the men of Smeerenburg by many a traveller. Told they were violent, crude, and gross. But this one? She felt comfortable around him. Maybe it was the way he cocked his head at her, maybe it was his lax smile and his slightly slumped shoulders. Hell, it might've even been his fluffy sideburns. Either way, she just felt comfortable in his presence. He leaned against the counter, and plucked a cookie from the top of the stack.

"Ya don't mind me helping myself? Don't mean to judge, but I don't think a little lady like you can pack away ALL those cookies."

"Hey, I can try. If you wanna help, take a seat."

"Can't, they're screwed to the floor."

She took a minute to hold her face in her hands. Was that awful? Yes. But the chuckle that followed after? Definitely wasn't. 

"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't help it. But sure, sailor never turns down a free meal. And lemme tell ya, this place has the BEST cookies. Hey, Krumholtz! Gimme a s'mores over here!"

"Krumholtz?"

"Yeah, pretty much everyone on the island is a variation of 'krum' or 'Ellingboe'. Krumholtz family makes the best cocoa and cookies, but the 'boes down the block? Lemme tell ya, best meat rolls out there. Don't tell anyone though, last time someone gave their opinion, they fought for four weeks straight. Think they threw frozen ham hocks at their kid. Walked funny for a couple of days."

"Really? How are they now?"

"Take a gander."

He motioned a bit away from the street, to two women. One was thinner and taller, with black hair and a pale face, while the other was shorter, plumper, with a round face and poofy red hair. They were both holding baskets, comparing and trading goodies. The boatman whistled at her, giving a wave. They both turned, and waved at him.

"Hey, Krumholtz. Ya wife is over yonder!"

The man turned to give him his drink, just in time to join in waving at his wife. The boatman chuckled, taking his drink and taking a sip. Chocolatey hot coco, gram crackers at the rim, chocolate sauce, and the best part? Roasted marshmallows right on the top. Best in all of Smeerenburg.

"You seem popular here, mr…?"

She chuckled, taking another sip of her drink, plucking a chocolate chip from the stack of cookies. This made him tense up a little, before he took a sip to relax himself. Last year, people barely even knew he existed, now he was apparently popular. Funny how things change.

"Mogens. I also accept 'Mogs', and occasionally 'bastard' and 'boatman'. Or anything, really."

He lifted his hands toward her, and gratefully shook his hand. His fingers were cold, calloused, but somehow, it was rather comforting, surrounding her little hand. Once he let go, she sunk back into her seat, sipping her coco.

"So, Mogens. You've been living here often?"

"Pretty much since I moved here as a little kid. Though I was more or less surviving here. In fact, this is the first celebration I've been to since the veggie festival...what, about five years ago? As to what it was even about, beets me."

"...Do I have to hear these jokes often?"

"When I feel like it, yeah. It's tradition to annoy literally everyone you meet here. I'm just that hospitable."

He plucked a molasses cookie, while she took a pumpkin one, anything to get that pun out of her mouth. It was then she finally looked up at his cap, and chuckled.

"For someone who's apparently not so social, you seem to be embracing the holiday spirit."

"Oh this? Oh no, I'm in a play, and I'm being a tree. Going for a real 'negative space' sort of look. I'm an artist at heart you know."

After getting a sour look, a big grin formed on his face.

"Jeez, never thought cookies could be so sour. Alright, truth be told, I'm TRYING to get into the holiday, and this seems like the easiest thing to do."

He took a pause, taking a big sip of his drink, and licking the remains off his bottom lip.

"You know, ya get the smooch here, peck there, all in good spirits. It's...weird. Being a boatman, I'm not here too often, not with a lotta people. Now, I get a wave here, a dinner invitation there. It's like, I sorta never met people before."

There was a moment of silence, him looking almost lost for a moment, before he lightly shook his head.

"Ah, sorry, got mushy on ya, like some old timey play. Point is, yeah, I'm trying to get into the spirit. Why, wanna spread some cheer to this old sea men?"

That chuckle let her know his words were plenty intentional. She thought about it, and turned in her seat, folding her arms across her chest.

"Alright, sure. Can't say no to traditions, can I?"

"Should hope not, wouldn't wanna offend these islanders. Lemme tell ya, these guys have GREAT aim. Should have a sports team with these kinda throwing arms."

He moved to face her, and turned his cheek, poking it. Wouldn't be his first peck from a tourist, and he doubted it would be his last.

"Alright, lay it on me, cookie."

He had a lax grin on his face, half expecting a quick one second smooch, or a kiss to his temple. He wasn't exactly a dreamboat, believe it or not. That was when he was given a shock far harsher than any blizzard of Smeerenburg. She held the side of his face, forced his head to turn, and lifted herself up, to meet his lips. He wasn't exactly someone people were eager to smooch, especially like this. But this little lady, who he had just met, was kissing him. And not just any little kiss, but a holding onto his face, gliding her little fingers to and fro through his chops, rubbing and massaging his ears kinda kiss. There was nothing inherently sexual about this in the slightest, but regardless, he couldn't hold back a slight groan, being as careful as he could, to lightly hold onto her chin.

Before he could get too carried away (can you blame him? This lady was using those dainty fingers to play him like a fiddle) she had peeled herself away from him, and something was apparently funny, given how she covered her mouth to hide her chuckle. Mogens was gawking at her, slack jawed, hair eskew, hat on the brink of falling off. Klaus had nothing, compared to the magic he just felt. She stood up, and tucked some cookies in her pockets, smiling down at him.

"So, I'm gonna be looking around. Maybe I'll find you around again?"

She poked him on his nose, and gave him a little wave as she turned to leave. If only he could see that her blush was just as bad as his, making her cover her face with her sweater. Jesper (who had appeared from what felt like nowhere), raised a brow as he sipped his own coco.

"So...tourist, huh?"

"Uh...yeah."

"Gonna just sit there? Or you gonna go?"

"Uh...Go. Yeah I just...yeah."

"...You love her?"

"Love her? Nah. Sailors don't feel love. But we do find booty."

He adjusted his hat, got off from his seat, winked at a groaning Jesper, and steered his hindquarters towards a new destination. Someone who he REALLY liked. And someone who might actually like HIM. Someone that'd give him a reason to spend a little less time on the boat, and a little more time in town. Who knows?

He might've found a home. Though, he tried not to have his hopes up TOO high.

Much as he DID love cookies.


End file.
